


A Not-Stressful Holiday

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, 1k cutesy piece for oldmarriedspirk. Spock and Kirk take a short holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Not-Stressful Holiday

Kirk watches, settled comfortably where he is on the porch of the old house. It’s sunny out, and the sun is warm as it comes down, filtering through the glass mobiles hanging from the overhang and dappling the wood floor with light.

Spock is cross-legged on the grass in front of the house, a knife in his hand. He works at a piece of thick oak with a chisel and a knife, a small furrow to his brow as he concentrates on the wood in front of him. He works well enough, his hands strong and skilled.

“Is Doctor McCoy coming this evening?” The question comes quietly from Spock’s mouth, and he doesn’t look up from his carving as he speaks. He doesn’t need to when they’re like this; Kirk can hear him from here. It’s so  _quiet_ surrounding the old cabin – it had been at Scotty’s recommendation, though the engineer certainly could never sleep here himself. Without the lullaby of an engine sounding through, he’d toss and turn.

“Tomorrow morning.” Kirk replies, and he takes a sip from his drink, enjoying the sweet taste of the juice in his mouth. “He’ll stay for two days, and then we’ll all make our way back to San Francisco.”

“Hmph.” is Spock’s retort. Kirk’s lip twitches.

“What was that, Spock?”

“I believe you heard me correctly, James.” He laughs a little, setting his drink on the side of his chair and heaving himself up. His bones ache a little, these days, and his muscles too, even without doing anything at all; that’s old age, he supposes.

“I’m not sure I did. Sounded to me like you said “hmph”.”

“That is correct.” Spock glances to the side, watching Kirk for just a few moments before his gaze flickers back to his work, and he suffices with peripheral vision of the other man.

“Is the  _hmph_  directed at Doctor McCoy, or at the thought of going back to San Francisco?” Kirk doesn’t drop and sit cross-legged like Spock does – he’s never much been one for that – but he crouches behind the Vulcan and then he reaches out, hands sliding over the other man’s back. Spock is dressed in a light shirt and trousers, the same as Kirk; as far away from Starfleet uniform as either of them could comfortably manage.

“I believe it is a response that encompasses both ideas resolutely, James.” Spock says quietly, and he leans just  _slightly_  back into Kirk’s hands. Kirk grins a little, amused, and then he begins to massage at the muscle there. Spock’s hands go still, and he looks back to the other man, unamused.

“I don’t think that’s  _true_ , Spock.” Kirk teases.

“Vulcans do not lie.”

“I think they do. I think that  _you_  are very  _excited_  to see Bones again, so you can have someone else to bicker with.” Spock does not outright  _scowl_ , but there is a visible downturn to his lips.

“Doctor McCoy and I do not-”

“Act civilly to one another.” Spock frustratedly tilts his head, obviously displeased. Kirk leans and he presses his lips to the back of the other’s neck, and Spock lets out a quiet, pleased sigh.

“We  _can_ do so.” Spock says in a low, but not unclear voice. It is serious in cadence, but Kirk still laughs – Bones and Spock could no more be  _nice_  to each other than two tomcats shoved into a burlap sack together.

“You just choose not to.” Kirk suggests, and Spock hums. His hands have moved up to the back of the Vulcan’s neck, and now he massages the taut flesh there.

“Doctor McCoy chooses not to, and I react in kind.”

“Oh, it’s all  _his_  fault.” Kirk teases him easily enough, and then he drapes himself over Spock’s back, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck. Spock’s right hand curls against the other’s arm, and it is warm even through the fabric of Kirk’s sleeve.

“Precisely.” There is a pause. “James, ought I take you holding me like this to mean I will not be permitted to finish my wood carving?”

“I’m not  _stopping_  you.” Spock  _tuts_. He hadn’t used to tut, once upon a time – it wasn’t common practice on Vulcan, to Kirk’s awareness, and he’d been too concentrated on his Vulcanity to pick up the action in Starfleet Academy. Kirk supposes Doctor McCoy could be blamed for him having affected the habit.

“You are distracting me, James.” Spock says, tone as accusatory – and amused – as it ever gets.

“I suppose I am, yes.” Spock turns his head, one hand reaching to cup Kirk’s cheek, and then he presses his mouth to the other man’s, gentle, tender. It is not sexual – it’s rare that sexuality is the goal with simple kisses, these days. “Could I,  _Mister_  Spock, convince you to come inside?”

“To perform what action?”

“Supper. A good book. A nap?”

“A nap.” Spock repeats. “Jim-”

“I love it when you call me Jim.” He interrupts, and Spock’s lips twitch; it is not a smile, but it is a warm expression all the same.

“I know.” Spock glances to his half-finished carving, and then he stands, pulling the Human up with him. “You are an irritant, Jim.”

“If I’m an irritant, what’s Doctor McCoy?”

“A  _second_  irritant.” Spock says bluntly, and Kirk begins to laugh, looking at the other man affectionately.

“Oh, I do love you, Spock.”

“T’hy’la.” is the immediate reply, and Spock’s hand rests upon Kirk’s neck as they make their way inside. “If it rains, I will hold you personally responsible for the damage.”

“Oh, rest assured, Mister Spock, I will submit to your disciplinary actions.” Kirk says agreeably, his hand catching over top of the other man’s own.

“Very well, Captain. In that case, I will send you to bed without supper. Doctor McCoy has  _assured_  me it is common punishment on Earth.” Kirk snorts.

“Did I say I  _loved_  you, Spock? I meant-”

“That you loved me very much.” Spock interrupts him with an easy correction, plainly amused. “After you.”

“Ladies first?” Kirk teases.

“Even if you identified as a woman, Jim, I would not think you a lady.”

“ _Spock!”_


End file.
